


Man With Dog

by youtomyme



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rating May Change, Romance, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 22:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youtomyme/pseuds/youtomyme
Summary: Due to an unfortunate miscalculation, Drumknott gets turned into a werewolf. He and Vetinari deal with the consequences together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the canonical portrait _Man With Dog_ by William Prout, featured on the [6p stamp](http://www.discworldstampcatalogue.co.uk/stamps/shs0353a.gif) released by the Discworld Emporium.

Contrary to popular belief, Vetinari was incapable of predicting the future. It was simply that he was highly skilled in turning any outcome to his advantage. This situation would _be_ no different, but right now … it was unfamiliar indeed.

The sole source of light was the lantern held by Igor and, as it was for Vetinari’s benefit only, was sufficient only for him to see a few steps in front of him. Lady Margolotta walked close next to him as his guide. Up ahead, several werewolves in wolf form, one in the form of a (completely naked) man, sniffed the air and ran on. They had caught Drumknott’s scent some moments ago, and were tracking him now.

‘I think I hear him,’ Lady Margolotta said. ‘The heartbeat matches vat I remember hearing from him the last time ve met.’

Indeed, the werewolves were speeding up. After a few more minutes where they spread out, then converged once more, the one in the shape of a man came up to them and spoke Überwaldean in a tone that was more growl than voice. ‘We’ve found him. He can’t escape from us now.’

‘What are you doing to him?’ Vetinari said. For some reason, the werewolf seemed surprised that he could speak Überwaldean. 

‘He’s wild, completely lost to the wolf. If you want to bring him back, we’ll fight him. Knock him unconscious. If you keep him restrained, he’ll eventually remember himself. Maybe.’

‘There’s no need for that,’ Vetinari said coldly. He detached himself from Lady Margolotta’s side and stepped forward. ‘Where is he?’

The werewolf looked at Lady Margolotta uncertainly. When she said nothing, he said, ‘We have him cornered. The others are about to engage him.’

Vetinari stride forward at once. It was clear the werewolf thought him a fool, and it was true he knew little about born werewolves and even less about transformed ones. But he did know Rufus Drumknott, and he felt sure that he would be no different as a wolf than as a man. 

He approached the ring of growling wolves, each of them at least reaching his elbow in height. Noticing him, one of them tried to nudge him away. He pushed back, and the werewolf staggered backwards, surprised by his strength. A couple of the other werewolves gave growls of warning. 

‘He will not hurt me,’ Vetinari said. The words sounded foolish in the dark, wooded night, all the more so with Lady Margolotta and Igor’s light far behind. But it was the unshakable truth - or was it his unshakable belief? What did it matter if his belief turned out to be true, as it surely would? He forcibly pushed through the throng of wolves.

Drumknott was as beautiful a wolf as he was a man. His sandy blonde hair was now sandy blonde fur, an unusual colour amidst the white blondes and greys of the wolves surrounding him. He was smaller and more slender than the other wolves too, as he had been shorter in average a man. Amidst the thick fur, matted from running through the woods, a pair of green eyes glowed back at him. They were Drumknott’s eyes exactly. Vetinari did not need the werewolves matching Drumknott's scent to his clothes to tell him that this was his secretary. 

Drumknott was backed up against a wall of fallen stones, his tail between his legs, head low and teeth bared in a growl. He did look quite frightening - yet Vetinari’s gaze were drawn to the green eyes that darted here and there, taking in their surroundings. Vetinari had seldom seen that expression on his secretary’s face before, but he easily recognised it. Drumknott was bewildered and afraid. After all, he had, until this point in his life, been nothing but a humble civil servant, shielded from much of the wilderness of the world by his position. He had experienced grave danger before, but not of this extreme nature where everything was alien to him. When Vetinari came closer, he gave a snap of fearsome teeth.

‘You would threaten your own master?’ Vetinari said, kneeling down in front of him. Drumknott backed away so that he was almost climbing the wall, still growling. Vetinari took off his glove and extended his hand. As he did so, the other werewolves shifted closer, ready to pounce should Drumknott bolt. He waved them back, and Lady Margolotta barked out an order to retreat.

‘Come, Drumknott,’ Vetinari said, offering his hand for Drumknott to pick up his scent. ‘It is not far from Lady Margolotta’s castle now. Let us arrive there that I may make a proper apology.’

Drumknott did not look at him, still glaring at the thick ring of wolves. He was newly transformed - would he even recognise Vetinari’s scent? Vetinari reached further, and sensing his movement, Drumknott turned his snarl on him.

‘Enough of that, please. I understand that this is difficult for you, but perhaps we could undergo these difficulties together in comfort?’ Vetinari seized his jaw. Drumknott snapped and thrashed about, trying to break free, but Vetinari held on firmly. ‘Drumknott, _look at me_.’ He jerked the muzzle upwards, then forcibly pressed their foreheads together. 

For a moment, the world held its breath, and so did Vetinari. At first, Drumknott only struggled to get free, his forepaws scratching at the front of Vetinari’s jacket. Lady Margolotta took a step back as blood seeped through Vetinari's clothes, but he paid her no mind. With no other option in sight, Drumknott met Vetinari’s eyes. He snarled and shook his head, then recognition slid slowly into his eyes. His movements stilled as he gazed into icy blue. Then, gently, he withdrew his muzzle, Vetinari loosening his grip and allow him to do so. Drumknott whined and butted him, lightly, pressing his face into Vetinari's arm. Vetinari relaxed.

‘It’s alright, Drumknott.’ Vetinari stroked his head with his ungloved hand. His fur was so soft, softer than he had always imagined Drumknott’s hair to be. ‘Let us go and rest now.’

They stayed like that for some seconds, Vetinari waiting for the trembling that wracked Drumknott's frame to calm. Drumknott let out a huff of relief and stepped back. Vetinari smiled at him; perhaps with his newly sharpened vision, he would see it, even in the dark. Before he could stand up, however, Drumknott butted his chest as if in question. It didn’t hurt, but the oozing blood stained Drumknott’s fur.

‘I will be fine,’ Vetinari said dismissively. The wound was not deep, and certainly he had experienced much worse. ‘As will Lady Margolotta.’

As he stood, he leaned forward and murmured in Drukmnott’s ear, so low perhaps not even Lady Margolotta could hear, ‘Do not lower your head as we walk. You have nothing to be ashamed of.’

The crowd of werewolves parted when Vetinari stood, and dispersed as they walked back to Lady Margolotta’s coach. She would give them their reward later on Vetinari’s behalf. Drumknott’s side brushed against Vetinari’s legs as they walked.

‘Perhaps Drumknott and I should walk,’ Vetinari suggested when they came to the coach.

‘Vat for?’ Lady Margolotta said imperiously, sweeping into the coach. Vetinari allowed himself a slight smirk of amusement.

‘Come along, Drumknott.’ Vetinari stepped inside, and Drumknott followed, climbing in as gracefully as if he had always walked on four legs. 

He sat on his hindquarters on the floor of the carriage, answering Vetinari’s significant looks at the seat next to him with meaningful stares of his own. Vetinari gave up and let him sit at his feet. As the coach ride continued, Drumknott’s head moved closer and closer until it was in his lap. Many things would be made far more difficult for him now, Vetinari knew. Perhaps the only real ally Drumknott would have from now on would be his master. Certainly, Vetinari had no objection to that. He placed his hand on the back of Drumknott’s head and simply let it rest there in the thick fur.

At the castle, Igor showed them their adjacent rooms, and when he had plodded away, Vetinari said, ‘Come and see me in my room whenever you are ready. Even if it is late, or near the morning, I will be waiting.’

Drumknott nodded and thumped his tail on the floor, once. Somehow, Vetinari couldn’t resist touching the back of the wolf’s head again. His fur was exquisite to the touch. It would need a lot of keeping. Drumknott leaned into him, and the moment lasted but a heartbeat. Vetinari lifted his hand.

‘Rest well,’ he said, and retired to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can Discworld werewolves turn others into werewolves? I don't know. Please roll with it. My headcanon Drumknott is his illustration in [the official board game, Discworld Ankh-Morpork](https://rufusdrumknott.tumblr.com/image/147585027664).
> 
> This work inspired by a piece of fanart I once saw long ago, I believe, drawn by someone I used to call V. If anyone has any idea what I'm talking about, I would be much obliged.
> 
> By 'Rating may change', I mean that I hope to insert some serious hanky-panky at some point. Let us hope for the best.
> 
> It is not my style to put up WIPs, but this year has been Difficult (Most Difficult) and I feared that if I did not put something up now, I would go the whole year without contributing to my most beloved fandom, which would be Unbearable. Hopefully we will proceed at a decent pace, however.
> 
> Please feel free to drop by my Tumblr [rufusdrumknott](http://rufusdrumknott.tumblr.com/) to talk to me! I always cherish talking to fellow fans of what is, really and truly, my One True Pairing. I go by the same name on Reddit, Discord (#0862), MyFigureCollection, etc., whatever you like.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments appreciated, as always.


	2. Chapter 2

The wounds that scratched from Vetinari’s navel to the middle of the stomach were not deep, if muddied with dirt. He wondered if the dirt that Drumknott’s claws picked up would appear under his fingernails. Drumknott would despise that. 

Igor had offered to dress the wound, but Vetinari declined lest Igor decided it would be best to give him a new torso altogether. It was not unusual for Vetinari to dress his own wounds, anyway. He had always been an ambitious man, and zealous men sometimes had to hide their scars from their aunts/tutors/classmates/etc. Not to mention that medicine was simply one of the many subjects he had pursued at the Assassins’ Guild. 

Was Drumknott hurt? Probably not. Vetinari had not noticed anything in the carriage. Perhaps if Drumknott _were_ to get hurt in the future, no common doctor, not even the esteemed Dr Lawn, could be of help without knowing his condition, which Drumknott possibly would not want. It would be up to Drumknott to decide that, of course, but Vetinari would consider the situation as needing a particular level of caution.

Only two hours passed before the expected knock on Vetinari’s door came. It was as much as Vetinari expected, but he was sure it was not enough time for Drumknott to fully recover. It would be futile to tell the man so, however, and Vetinari opened the door.

Drumknott the man stood at the door, dressed in his work clothes. He gave a bow. ‘My lord, forgive me for disturbing you at this late hour.’

Something inside Vetinari shifted and fell away. To his surprise, it was relief. Well, was it not natural to feel some concern? He certainly felt a degree of responsibility. It had been _his_ decision to continue to Überwald despite the late and dangerous hour after all. Not that his reputation would be any damaged if his employee came to any harm during work, but this was Drumknott. He owed him a slightly higher degree of care than he did his other employees. 

‘I am the one who asked to meet you, Drumknott.’ Vetinari stepped back and Drumknott entered the room. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘No.’

‘Then I will call for Igor.’

‘There’s no need,’ Drumknott said. Vetinari ignored him. 

Ten minutes later, they were both seated at a small table in the room with tea and biscuits in between them. Vetinari poured the tea for them both, and put two sugars in Drumknott’s tea. He needed it. 

‘My lord,’ Drumknott said, a becoming flush colouring his cheeks, ‘please … you shouldn’t be serving me …’

Vetinari ignored this as well. What an absurd, typically-Drumknott thing to say. 

They drank in silence for some minutes. If it were not for the late hour, it would be just as if they were taking refreshment together as they always did after a long journey. It was peaceful. Vetinari had once thought that it would be a shame, the day they would no longer have such peaceful moments. Drumknott, a creature of habits and solid reliability, must surely feel the same way. His recent change, at least, would not affect their quiet moments together, Vetinari would make sure of that. 

At length, Drumknott put down his cup and looked Vetinari in the eye. ‘Thank you for your patience in dealing with me while I was … in my newly changed form. I might still not be myself if it were not for you.’

‘I have every confidence you would have eventually become lucid again if you _were_ left to your own devices,’ Vetinari said. ‘I merely sped up the process for both our sakes.’

Drumknott nodded, his gaze slipping away from Vetinari’s face ever so slightly. There was a certain dismay and agitation in his eyes, and who could blame him? To be changed so suddenly must be a shock. 

‘How are you feeling?’ Vetinari asked quietly. 

‘It feels almost as if I have been dropped onto an entirely different planet,’ Drumknott said, voice similarly low. ‘Everything is so much … more. When my body changed, I was overwhelmed by my senses - smell, especially. I was almost entirely blinded for how much I could smell. Even now, the scent of this tea is so powerful, my nose tastes it more than my mouth.’

It was an admission, that much emotion coming from Drumknott. 

‘Is there anything that could be helpful? I believe a steam bath clears the nasal passages, which you may find refreshing.’

‘I will follow your advice later.’ Drumknott found the courage to fully return his gaze to Vetinari’s face again. A small, miraculous smile curved his lips. ‘Thank you.’

Vetinari gave him a few moments before he opened his mouth to speak again, but Drumknott continued speaking first.

‘My lord, I realise that this is unconventional, and inconvenient for you, but please allow me to offer my resignation. I would like to ask it to be effective immediately, though I understand if you desire me to stay the conventional two weeks before taking my leave.’ 

Silence fell. This was not entirely a surprise to Vetinari, but he had hoped Drumknott would have more sense.

‘Why have you decided to take this sudden course of action?’ Vetinari said coolly. 

‘I believe it is the most prudent action for me to take considering my new circumstances, sir. It would be difficult for you to deal with a … a werewolf as a secretary, particularly as I am newly changed and will need time to adjust to the situation.’

‘Then take a holiday. You can have as long as you wish. You are owed a good amount of leave, anyway.’

‘That … might not be sufficient.’ Drumknott swallowed. He was struggling to continue looking Vetinari in the eye. ‘I cannot explain … not to anyone … how it feels. I don’t - do not know if I’ll ever … feel myself again. I simply do not wish to inconvenience you, my lord,’ he went on in a rush. ‘I don’t know if I can return to myself enough to serve you like I used to. I don’t - do not wish to burden you by asking for any more of your patience then you have already shown me.’

His words were troubled, tripping out with speed, and at the end of the speech, his hands trembled so much that his saucer rattled as he put down his teacup. 

‘What will you do if you leave my service?’ Vetinari said after a long pause. 

‘My … my home village is not far from here.’ Drumknott was very definitely not looking at him now, and Vetinari suspected the reason strongly enough that he practically already knew. 

‘You will go there?’ When Drumknott said nothing, Vetinari leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands. ‘As I thought, you would not confide your new circumstances to your family. Do you intend to hide in the forests of Überwald forever over a simple accident? I would consider it an affront to myself if you decided to do so. After all, I am to blame for this situation.’

 _That_ caught Drumknott’s attention. His gaze snapped back to Vetinari and he said, almost sharply, ‘That is not true.’

‘Is that so?’ Vetinari said, an eyebrow twitching. It was almost endearing how Drumknott would defend his master even from himself. 

‘You took me, in my capacity as your clerk, on a business trip to Überwald. On the way, we encountered an accident. It could not be argued that you are liable for any accident that occurs at any time you are with your employees.’

‘But I decided to continue our journey despite the dangerous hour.’

‘It is a dangerous journey, my lord.’

‘Very well, I see you are determined to carry the weight of the Disc on your shoulders,’ Vetinari conceded, causing an embarrassed flush to colour Drumknott’s face. ‘All the same, such an irrational decision is not like you, Drumknott.’

‘I see no other alternative.’

‘In which case, allow me to present the alternative _I_ see. Take a few weeks off, if you wish, but take them at your home village or in Ankh-Morpork until you feel equilibrated with your new personal situation. Then, continue working with me as you always have. Occasionally, your new form and senses will prove useful to me. If situations as they arise are agreeable to you, I will ask you to put them to use. Or we may continue as before, and I will forget tonight until a time you may need me to remember and remind you that it is no detriment to either of us.’

Drumknott was quiet for several moments, carefully turning things over in his mind. 

‘What happens if I lose control of myself again?’

‘Then I will remind you of yourself again, as many times as necessary.’

‘My lord …’ Drumknott swallowed, and it was another 30 seconds before he could bring the words to his lips. ‘You … will support me?’

‘Yes.’

To Vetinari’s consternation, Drumknott’s shoulders trembled and his eyes glistened with tears. 

‘Thank you,’ he murmured, blinking rapidly at his lap. 

Politely averting his gaze, Vetinari gave him three seconds to compose himself, then stood up. ‘Sleep now, Drumknott, and I will see you tomorrow. You need not wake early; I will ask for a clerk from the embassy in Bork to meet the Low King in the morning.’

‘If I am to stay on as your clerk, then I will go with you -‘ Drumknott said, rising to his feet as well. 

‘No. The Low King’s mines will be crowded with people, and it may prove overwhelming to your newly heightened senses. You should acclimatise yourself slowly. We will stay in Überwald for two weeks, during which time I expect you only to work with me while I am here in the castle. For the remainder of the time, you should rest and adjust to your situation before we return to Ankh-Morpork. Perhaps Lady Margolotta would be able to introduce you to other werewolves who would help you become used to your body, if you would so desire that.’

‘Y-yes. Very well, my lord. And ... thank you. For, well -’

Vetinari waved away his thanks. To be frank, it was almost rather embarrassing. 

As they walked to the door, Drumknott became anxious again.

‘Sir, I apologise, I nearly forgot. The wound I - I gave you -’

‘- will be fine,’ Vetinari said flatly. 

Drumknott’s eyebrows knitted at the tone, but his conscience appeared to override his survival instincts. ‘Please allow me to apologise. I was not in control of myself at the time, but hurting you was unforgivable.’ 

‘I think you’ll find that I can forgive it quite easily.’ Vetinari opened the door. ‘I will see you tomorrow, Drumknott.’

The agitation didn’t leave Drumknott’s brow, but he dropped the matter. He bowed. ‘Goodnight, my lord.’

‘Goodnight.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I assure you that there is much yet to come that will deeply pain them both. At least, I assume that's how you do whump. As always, thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments last chapter! I can't reply to them all, but please know that I reread them all over and over again, and they always make me smile. I really appreciate you guys taking the time to tell me you're enjoying this fic, and I hope you guys find this chapter enjoyable too!

It had completely escaped his mind in the aftermath of returning to his human form (no easy feat for a first-timer - he kept panicking and unintentionally turning back into a wolf), but after his conversation with Lord Vetinari, the memory of injuring his master with his own hands haunted Drumknott. 

_‘You would threaten your own master?’_

Lord Vetinari’s words rang in Drumknott’s ears, keeping sleep away despite his fatigue. Even though he hadn’t been in control of himself at the time, his memories of the night were clear. The more he dwelt on it, the clearer the memory became: of Vetinari’s firm hand on his thrashing muzzle, raising his paws, claws hooking on fabric, the feeling of the cloth and skin underneath tearing beneath his claws, the blood that stained Vetinari’s jacket and Drumknott’s paws …

The self-loathing that bubbled up inside him was like poison. Lord Vetinari, the man he had sworn to serve, the man who meant everything to him … He felt as if he had betrayed him. 

And yet, his lordship continued to show him a kindness most citizens of Ankh-Morpork would not consider him capable of. It made him feel guilty and humbled … 

… but …

… but there was a small, undeniable part of himself that felt ridiculously, incredibly happy. 

His lordship had been there for him! He had gone after a newly-turned werewolf to call him back to his senses! He had trusted him. And he had touched him. Drumknott would never forget the searing force of that ice blue gaze not a centimetre away from his own eyes, and the feeling of Lord Vetinari’s fingers running through his fur. Vetinari seemed to have no objection to touching his fur either, petting him more than once. If Drumknott had known that that was all it would take for Vetinari to touch him, he would have asked Sergeant Angua to bite him _years_ ago. 

If he had not put Lord Vetinari through so much trouble, Drumknott might have considered turning into a werewolf completely worth it. 

Drumknott slept and woke with the thoughts churning through his head over and over again. It was no good for a clerk, particularly one in as important a position as his own, to succumb to intrusive thoughts or repetitive thought patterns, but the thoughts demanded to be thought through and filed away. As per Lord Vetinari’s instructions, Drumknott awoke late-ish (8 am - it was quite appalling) and crept into the dining room. Breakfast had been laid out, the uneven number of slices of toast and touched butter the only indication Lord Vetinari had had any. Drumknott ate quickly, then tried to return to his room with equal haste. 

It was not to be, however, as he met Igor on the way. Or rather, he was crossing the corridors and nearly swallowed his tongue when Igor loomed behind him and said, ‘Good morning, mathter.’

It was quite shameful for a fellow practitioner of the silent approach. 

‘Good morning, Igor,’ Drumknott said, smoothly. ‘Are you well?’

‘We had a good thunderthtorm two dayth ago and I thtil have plenty of electrithity left, tho I am very well, thank you,’ Igor said gravely. ‘The mithtreth dethired me to inform you that the groundth are yourth to roam, mathter. You may find yourthelf wishing to make uthe of them in your new form.’

‘Thank you, Igor,’ Drumknott nodded. ‘And thank her ladyship for me as well.’

‘I will do tho when she waketh up. Pleathe ring the bell if you require my athithtance again.’

Igor shimmered away, or rather, seemed to be swallowed up by the ground. That was the difference between silent servants and silent Igors. Not even he, Drumknott, could disappear in such a way as to seem to instantly evaporate. He was only capable of leaving as swiftly and silently as the wind. A mild distinction, but an important one. He would make a note of it later. Note-taking was essential to an organised mind and continuous self-improvement.

Speaking of which, it was true that he felt a run might help. He had not previously been the type who needed movement to move his thoughts, but he could feel the wolf, lurking, fur bristling, just underneath his skin. Perhaps some exercise would help bury it a little further inside himself. 

Deliberately changing was no easier the second time, and shedding his clothes was only the beginning. He felt absurdly embarrassed about taking them off. The prospect of changing within them, and ruining another set of robes, however, was even worse. Feeling sillier than ever, he went into the bathroom to undress, then change.

It was not much of a struggle to change from one form into another - he merely seemed to slide out of one shape and into the next - but the sensations that accompanied it were alien and almost nauseating. His skin rippled, his bones stretching and shrinking, fur pushing out of his skin, senses sharpening, and a hundred other things. The ease of change only added to the problems: a moment’s panic meant an instinctive slide back into the form he had come from. Above all else, Drumknott was terrified of losing control again. To a man who strove for perfect self-control and self-awareness at all times, the prospect of losing himself was worse than death. 

He would have felt better if he could change into a wolf under someone’s supervision, but whose help could he ask? Lord Vetinari had promised to support him, it was true; to ask for his help in something that should have been trivial, however, would be shameful. He had to do it himself. 

It took nearly ten minutes. Drumknott stood on four wobbly legs, feeling the cold stone floor underneath foot pads and claws. _Name: Rufus Drumknott. Occupation: Chief clerk and personal secretary to Lord Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. Age: Twenty-eight. Current location: Bathroom of third-floor suite #5 from Hubwards staircase, Lady Margolotta’s Castle, Bonk, Überwald, Discworld._

The most basic of information, but realising that he was able to run through it all in one go comforted Drumknott. He was lucid and in control of himself. Or at least his mind.

How had he walked with such ease last night? Four legs was too many, and he had no idea what to do with his tail. He waved it experimentally and nearly toppled over from imbalance. He waddled out of the bathroom as if on skates. On the plush carpeted floor, Drumknott allowed himself to fall down on his side.

It must have been because he had lost control to the wolf. The wolf’s instincts had guided not only his mind, but also his body. Clearly, it would be inadvisable to completely retain the mind of a man while he was in the form of a wolf - at least, at first. Perhaps he could master it with time and practice, but not now, when he was still entirely new to the experience. 

Drumknott climbed to his feet again. He had had the urge to shake himself ever since he turned, and he gave in to it now. It wasn’t so bad. He bent his head and scratched his ear against a forepaw. He couldn’t feel his fur the way a human could, feeling its softness or its length with bare fingers, but he could tell that his coat was pleasantly clean and downy at the current time. That made him think of Lord Vetinari reaching out to touch his fur, and _that_ made him want to wag his tail. Dogs were always such transparent creatures. Even last night, he had not been able to stop himself from butting Vetinari in concern when he noticed his wound. Drumknott would have to work even harder than he already did to keep his secrets from his perceptive master in this form. Strangely, that idea made him happy too. If he could overcome the challenges being a werewolf presented, he would surely become just a little bit more worthy of standing by Lord Vetinari’s side.

On this cheering thought, Drumknott trotted out of the bedroom. The door had a handle, and not a knob, so it presented no problem. Though he had visited Lady Margolotta’s castle enough times to be familiar with it, in the form of a wolf, everything seemed new. Taking in the sight of every crevice in the stone walls, breathing in the scent of dust, damp, and Igor’s floor polish, Drumknott walked through the corridors with much on his mind.

When he passed Lady Margolotta’s door, he stopped as the force of a new scent hit him like a truck. He had smelt much of it last night too, but back then, he had had Lord Vetinari’s soothing touch anchoring him to the world. Without him now, every hair on Drumknott’s back stood on end and a growl unfurled from the back of his throat. 

Oh dear. Well, he wasn’t going to gain any favours with Vetinari if he developed an allergic reaction to the only person his lordship called a friend. Drumknott bent his head to the ground and shook his head so hard it made him slightly dizzy. He pulled himself together and walked on.

Of course, Drumknott knew of the ancient feud between werewolves and vampires, but why did it affect him? _He_ wasn’t part of that history, was he? He wondered if Lady Margolotta had any similar instinctive reaction to his new form. In the past, he had sensed that Lady Margolotta did not like him, or perhaps could not fathom why Lord Vetinari kept him by his side at all times. His new form seemed to make things more complicated by the second.

At last, he reached the kitchen, where the back door had been left open. Nobody would dare to trespass on Lady Margolotta’s estate, even for a few moments through an open door. Drumknott stepped out to blue sky and a cool breeze. Acres of green grass rolled out underneath his paws. He took a few moments to breathe in the fresh air, look around for intruders, then unable to restrain himself any further, bounded out into the open with a bark of joy. 

He ran for almost ten minutes straight before he flopped down in the shade of a tree, panting heavily. There was _so much_ pure energy inside him, as if he had always been a wolf and was only letting himself run free now for the first time in twenty eight years. Drumknott rolled onto his back and gazed up at the sky. Despite the cloudless day, there was no sun visible for now. He closed his eyes and thought of Lord Vetinari. 

It was a little past ten now. Right now, his lordship would be meeting the man (read: spy) stationed at the Ankh-Morpork embassy in Bonk. At eleven, he would have an early lunch at the embassy with the ambassadors and some other officials posted in Überwald by Klatch, Quirm, and Genua. How was Lord Vetinari doing with the clerk he had said he would borrow from the embassy? Vetinari was always hugely exacting, although Drumknott had heard that he was slightly more lenient with other clerks whenever they replaced Drumknott on sick or rest days, and Drumknott would later adjust their work to Vetinari’s satisfaction. Drumknott had felt proud, the first time he heard of that, to think that he and Vetinari had become so close that their very working habits had formed around one another. That meant tonight’s work would consist of reviewing the replacement clerk’s work, on top of the usual correspondence and file updating. It was a satisfying thought. 

A new smell hit Drumknott’s nose, strong and alien to the peaceful grounds. Drumknott rolled over on his front and sniffed the air, then felt his stomach churn in unease. It was the smell of other wolves, perhaps three or four, and they were close - already inside the compound of the castle grounds. Whoever would trespass on Lady Margolotta’s grounds could not have good intentions. Drumknott got up and ran towards the back door, not thinking or analysing what wolves would want from intruding on Lady Margolotta’s castle, but simply giving in to the wolf’s instinct to flee. 

Just as he was within two leaps of the door, two wolves materialised out of the shadows and stood blocking his way, growling with voices that seemed to come from deep within their bodies. Another wolf slunk up behind Drumknott, obstructing any route of escape. Heart beating a mile a minute, unsure of what to do, Drumknott lowered his head to the ground, ears pressed back against his skull. He let out an involuntary whine. 

The wolf behind him stepped closer and sniffed his legs. Drumknott started, whirling around and rapidly backing away until the louder growls of the wolves at the door stopped him. 

‘It’s him,’ the wolf declared. Of course, he did not speak Morporkian or Überwaldean, but in canine. Drumknott understood him instinctively. 

‘Come with us,’ one of the wolves at the door said, quite imperiously, his stance brooking no disobedience. He was clearly the leader of the pack. When Drumknott said nothing, he said, ‘Well? You belong with us, you know that?’

Drumknott understood. They were the wolves that had turned him. That was why their scent was so very familiar. 

‘Why do you hesitate?’ The third of them spoke. ‘You don’t belong amongst humans, and certainly not in the home of a vampire.’

‘They may say they accept you, but werewolves can never live with humans, not as humans or as dogs.’ The word ‘dogs’ was said in a contemptuous growl. ‘You will find yourself alone sooner or later. We are turning humans because we are going to make ourselves known here in Überwald. Come with us, and you will find a place where you fit in.’

Was that true? Drumknott had suspected as much, that he did not belong with humans anymore, but did that mean he belonged with other werewolves? He thought of Sergeant Angua, the only werewolf he had ever personally met prior to last night. Lord Vetinari had mentioned on one or two occasions, the struggles she endured as a werewolf working for humans. How many times had she faced decisions like this in the past? Drumknott did not want to leave Lord Vetinari’s - the same way Sergeant Angua most certainly would not want to leave Captain Carrot - but would that be better for Lord Vetinari and for him? 

_‘Do you intend to hide in the forests of Überwald forever over a simple accident? I would consider it an affront to myself if you decided to do so.’_

Drumknott internally flinched as Lord Vetinari’s words from the previous night echoed in his mind. Vetinari had told him to stay, and Drumknott had decided he would. To change his mind now, to run away without a word, would be a betrayal. Even if this was another rare situation in which Vetinari’s assessment of the circumstances would turn out to be wrong, Drumknott could not turn back on his word so soon. 

‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ a chilly voice spoke from the door, ‘but you appear to be poaching a man from my pack.’

The werewolves hastily turned around, and Drumknott raised his head, to see Lord Vetinari standing at the door, gazing at them with eyes the same colour as the sky but with an expression like steel. He was not holding his cane, but with a slight movement of one hand, the sun glinted off silver half-concealed in his palm. 

Growls from the wolves around Drumknott became louder and more menacing, lips curling back even farther to reveal teeth, each resembling in evil malice the knife in Vetinari’s hand. 

‘I am sorry to tell you that Rufus Drumknott is my man before he is your werewolf,’ Lord Vetinari said as smoothly as if the werewolves had spoken to him in Morporkian. ‘And I am prepared to engage all of you in his defence - though I would prefer not to, as the air is chilly and my leg is rather stiff today. I assure you that this is no hindrance to my combat abilities, however.’

It was clear that the werewolves were prepared to take him on, and Drumknott frantically tried to communicate this to Lord Vetinari. Vetinari, however, either did not or would not notice Drumknott’s earnest looks, choosing to instead direct his impassive gaze at the three wolves in front of him. Drumknott crouched down, ready to jump between his master and his attackers, when steps rang out on the stone floor behind Vetinari - soft steps, yet nevertheless somehow loud and ringing.

‘It is far too early in the day to be avakened by a brawl in my own castle grounds,’ Lady Margolotta said as she came up behind Vetinari. She held a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, the very image of a respectable middle-aged woman disgruntled by being aroused from her sleep, yet in some hidden way, with a sharpness to rival Lord Vetinari and the werewolves. 

‘I beg your pardon, my lady,’ Lord Vetinari said, drawing aside. ‘I noticed that you had trespassers.’

‘Indeed.’ She looked down her nose at the three wolves who were suddenly cowering in a huddle on the threshold. Though they may not have recognised the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, they certainly knew Lady Margolotta von Überwald. ‘Please leave before I call ze Vatch.’

It was not the city police the wolves feared, but they fled at her words as if it were. 

‘Come in, Drumknott,’ Vetinari said. Once Drumknott walked inside, Lady Margolotta closed the door with a quiet click that still contrived to sound as angry as a bang. 

‘Zat is ze last time I come to your aid in defense of verevolves,’ she said to Vetinari, sweeping away through the kitchen.

‘I do not believe I asked for your assistance,’ Vetinari answered coldly, following her. Drumknott walked behind him, trying to make himself as small as possible in Vetinari’s shadow. 

‘Neverzeless, if you insist on taking a dog into my castle, I must ask zat you keep an eye on him at all times to avoid inconveniencing ozers.’ 

With those words, she stalked away from them without having looked Vetinari in the eye once. Vetinari gave her back only a second’s cool glance before walking on himself. 

When he and Drumknott had climbed the stairs to the floor where their suites were, without even waiting to arrive at their doors, Vetinari suddenly turned to Drumknott and said, ‘You were going to go with them, weren’t you?’

Drumknott blinked. He shook his head quickly.

‘But you were thinking about it. What did they tell you? That you can never belong where you once did? Did I not tell you that nothing need change if you do not wish it? Will you decide that you do not belong at my side before _I_ decide it?’ 

Feeling utterly ashamed of himself, and unable to voice his apologies, Drumknott bent his head in submission. How could he have thought of leaving Lord Vetinari for a single second?

‘There may come a time when you naturally wish to leave my service. However, it will be a time that would have come even if this incident had not occurred to you. Only then will I release you. Do you understand?’

Drumknott did not know how to communicate that that time would never come, but perhaps it would have been rude to say even if he had been able to. He nodded without meeting Vetinari’s gaze. Then, to his surprise, Vetinari extended a (knifeless) hand. Hesitatingly, then understandingly, Drumknott leaned his head against his palm.

‘Do not doubt yourself any more, Drumknott,’ Vetinari said. He gave Drumknott’s head a brief rub, then raised his hand. ‘The lunch was dull, so I left early. Shall we do a little work before I leave for my next appointment?’ 

Drumknott nodded, and Vetinari turned to lead them to their rooms. Quite unable to restrain himself, Drumknott followed with a wagging tail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw your boss argues with his best friend over you but you're too insecure to read into it :') Thank you all for reading, as always!


End file.
